


Deceptive Depictions

by JenJo



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Jason dies, Just like in canon, Tentacles, Tumblr: Tentatodd Week, but not for long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 00:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17797505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenJo/pseuds/JenJo
Summary: The building was impossibly old. The bricks were crumbling under their own weight, the mortar flaking into dust. Cobwebs that suggested spiders larger than a man hung across roofless rooms; furniture that belonged in a bygone century covered in inches of dust. Floorboards creaked under the weight of an ant; a butterfly landing would send up a swirl of dust.-An abandoned house, a fool, and a horror story.





	Deceptive Depictions

**Author's Note:**

> Day Five: Horror/Fantasy.
> 
> My attempt at a story in the classic horror style.
> 
> CHARACTER DEATH: Jason dies in the process of the story, but does not remain dead.

 

The building was impossibly old. The bricks were crumbling under their own weight, the mortar flaking into dust. Cobwebs that suggested spiders larger than a man hung across roofless rooms; furniture that belonged in a bygone century covered in inches of dust. Floorboards creaked under the weight of an ant; a butterfly landing would send up a swirl of dust. Wood that used to be doors sat discarded in piles around the house, with some holding the telltale signs of being used for firewood. The wind whistling through the ancient abode sung a haunting melody; those who could bare to stand in it’s halls swore they heard the cries of long lost inhabitants. Sons lost to wars in far off lands, daughters lost to those same wars. Matrons who walked the halls, calling for lost children, dukes who never had a child mourning the child’s loss. 

 

To walk through the former Wayne Manor was to court madness. The streets of Gotham whispered of the madness incurred by those foolish enough to even approach the crumbling Manor on the hill overlooking the city. No one was under any delusions that it was a sane practice. And yet, every so often, there would be the fool who walks up the fabled hill, and if they are particularly lucky, they will reach the front steps. Most never made it so far, and fewer yet will walk through the doorway.

 

The moon was full, it’s light illuminating every empty window of that Manor, exacerbating the shadows that naturally fell. If one looked for long enough, one would swear to seeing movement in those windows, which had not seen life in many, many decades. 

 

This evening’s fool was a child of Gotham’s streets, left to raise himself as so many are. Formative years spent on the streets gave him an inflated sense of his invincibility. Not many left to the streets made it to their eighteenth birthday; the fact that this fool had just turned nineteen, was more than enough to convince him that he could not be killed. There had been one woman who had taken him under her wing, a Duchess who was once a street kid as well. Unfortunately, she could not convince him to live under her roof, and was unable to dissuade him from the notion that the answers he sought were to be found in the Manor. The Duchess knew she would not be seeing him again.

 

The fool made it through the outer fencing. The fencing, a token effort by the authorities to keep people out, was nothing more than a rope connecting posts set at regular intervals across the property. The fool had never had any trouble with fencing, even when it was actually designed to keep people out. An inheritance from the Duchess, the ability to get into places that he shouldn’t have been able to. 

 

The grounds in the front of the Manor were said to be burial grounds for those who once called the Manor home, and were the first stumbling block for those seeking entrance to the Manor. The fool found no problem passing over the grounds, not that he had ever had trouble walking through proven graveyards. The fool thought of himself as a friend to the ghosts of the streets, and expected this to extend to any ghosts found on these grounds. 

 

The path that once lead to the front door had long ago been overtaken by nature. The fool stepped up the three steps which lead to the once-grand entrance. Today, the door hung from its hinges, the smell of rotted wood strong even before the fool stepped foot on the steps. But rotting wood was nothing that a child of the streets couldn’t handle, and the fool stepped across the threshold with barely a thought. 

 

Perhaps, if he had given a pause, he would have thought to send a prayer to any deity for safe passage. If he had given pause, maybe he would have thought to ask the Manor for permission to enter. And perhaps, if he had listened to the Duchess, he would have asked the inhabitants of the Manor for permission to enter and exit safely. The fool did none of these things, and the Manor took note. 

 

The fool walked from room to room, barley taking notice of what was behind him. If he had taken note, he would have observed that, despite at least a foot of dust resting on the ground, the fool left no footsteps, nor did any dust rise as he walked. The fool may not have realised this, but the Manor did. 

 

The fool did not find what he was looking for on the ground floor, and made his way to the centre of the house, where he found a staircase. Oddly, the staircase was perfectly intact, leading the way to a second, third, and even fourth level above. But the fool’s eyes were not drawn upward; no, the fool’s eyes were caught below, where the staircase descended into darkness. Not only were the fool’s eyes drawn down, but his ears; he heard life down there, where the rest of the house was filled with the silence of lifelessness. 

 

If the fool was not already dead, then choosing to walk down the stairs sealed his fate. Despite no way for the moonlight to reach this level, the floor was entirely lit. Though the fool barely registered that it was not moonlight that lit the room, but rather an unearthly glow tinged in greens and blues. 

 

The fool was drawn forward, almost against his own will, step following step following step. Even if the fool were to second guess himself, he would not be able to stop. He was being drawn into the centre of the floor, underneath the lifeless house. The fool  did not even notice that no air ran through this floor. Whatever was drawing the fool inward, it did not live like anything else did. 

 

The fool felt his eyes widen as his body was stopped. Unable to move, the fool was helpless as he stood in front of a shadow. A part of the floor where not even the unnatural light reached.

 

**_Do you have a name_ ** **,** the fool heard in his head.  

 

Unable to open his mouth, the fool screamed in his head,  _ Jason _ .

 

**_No last name?_ **

 

_ None worthy of saying. _

 

**_How appropriate,_ ** the voice sounded almost amused by this fact.  **_No one to miss you._ **

 

_ Miss me? _

 

**_You have to have known that you died the moment you crossed the threshold.  Did you not notice how you left no footprints, that you drew no breath. You did not ask for permission, and the Manor does not appreciate being intruded upon._ **

 

The fool struggled, and struggled, but could not move a muscle.  _ Who are you? _

 

**_I have no name. I came before, and I will outlive the last. The human mind cannot comprehend my form. To see me is to be rendered mad._ **

 

_ So you are the cause of the rumours. _

 

**_Inquisitive even in the face of death._ ** Again, the amusement in the voice that wasn’t a voice.  **_I appreciate this. It makes a change from the ceaseless screaming. Perhaps… Perhaps indeed._ **

 

The fool saw movement in the shadow, something unbelievably large.  _ Perhaps what? _

 

**_I have wanted to take a human host for some time, but have yet to find a suitable one. Are you the answer I have sought?_ **

 

Even if the fool had the ability to move, he would not have been able to. The limb which reached out from the shadow was as wide as the fool, and twice as long, while still being submerged in the shadow. The movement within the shadow continued, even picking up in its frequency. Faint specks of the unnatural green and blue lights began to be seen in the shadow. 

 

**_Tell me, Jason with the unworthy surname, are you afraid of me?_ **

 

The fool regained the ability to move, but did not even flinch as the limb was joined by a second, each of them beginning to surround the fool, and crawl up his back.

 

“I am not afraid of you,” were the fool’s last words, before the limbs pulled him into the shadows, and the fool ceased to know anything. 

 

~~~

 

“A visitor, your grace.”

 

Selina, Duchess of Wynyrm, looked up from her papers. She was not expecting any visitors, and her butler, Jones, was looking almost nervous, if the word could be used to describe him.

 

“And does this visitor have a name?” Selina asked, standing up and brushing out her skirts.

 

“An old acquaintance,” was all Jones said. 

 

“Let them in,” Selina instructed. Anyone who claimed to be an old acquaintance was either a liar looking for money, or a former colleague who wanted money. Either way, it was better for her to deal with this now, than let it fester.

 

Moments after Jones left the room, the visitor entered, and Selina was almost brought to tears.

 

“Jason!” She cried, before composing yourself. “When you said you were going to the Manor, I thought I would never see you again.”

 

Jason held his hands out to the sides, a smile on his face that Selina had never seen before. “As you can see, I am in perfect health.”

 

“So you did not go to the Manor?”

 

“I found the answers I sought elsewhere.”

 

“May I hug you?”

 

“You and I have never held to society’s standards,” Jason said, stepping forward and allowing Selina to hug him. 

 

After all, if Selina was hugging him, then she would not notice that his eyes, once a stunning green, were now a colder shade, with flashes of blue. And, very occasionally, completely swallowed in black.

 

For the Jason Selina knew died before ever stepping foot inside the Manor, and the creature standing in her embrace had intentions greater than even Selina could ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :D


End file.
